Crucial Movements
by helppuppie
Summary: Romy.. in a different world, with unimaginable forces between them, can their passion for each other surpass all obstacles? come on ppl.. its Romyness to the umpteenth power!
1. Default Chapter

Outline

Time: London/France Medieval Times 16th – 17th Centuries

Main Characters: Lady Annarave Panquina de Brillarc (Rogue), Earl Remand Guildbance (Remy)

Disclaimer: Marvel owns the X-men (the names are evolved here, so I will indicate, if not already clear, what characters are what). The other non-x-men characters are mine.

Note: no actual research went into the timeline, not as yet. The timing, for now, is simply used to create an atmosphere.

France 1583

The winters' breeze shuffled past the windows, dotting the mountainside with past fallen specks of pure white crystal. The onslaught of snow had ceased only a few days hence, lending the landscape an ethereal beauty. Holy's Seat, the aging church so-named by the residing nuns for its awkward situation on the crest of France's mountains, tolled its bell, signaling the Christ-eve's ceremony. As the nuns slowly began their descent from each of their respective corners to the heart of Holy Seat, the smooth shuffling of their habits echoed in tune with the grace of the bell.

As the Head Mistress, Mother Evenlin Franc-Paux nodded her head to a fellow sister; she paused midway on her decent of the staircase, her look drawn to the church's front-most window. Mother Evenlin, regarded as the most eloquent nun to grace Holy's Seat's pews, was an aged woman, the epitome of motherly love and fatherly brute. She knew how to run the nunnery, opposing those of ill intent while cradling her children in her protective arms. Her face was stern, lines of worry and pressure dug so deep that at first glance, one could claim her ghoulish. But to those who knew her well, knew that in her prime, she was thought to be a beauty lost to man and won by the Lord above. Her hair, though secluded in her habit, was ebony - so dark that it appeared streaked with blue. Her eyes, a startling difference, were the lightest gray that echoed of hard wrought compassion and perseverance. She was, by all standards, a woman of impeccable undeniable worth.

The harsh times of France, with rebellious lords, fighting religions and feuding kings, demanded that she be the rock of her chapel, preventing the brutal realities of the world to enter her chambers. She was the sole keeper of the "child." Her entire sisterhood held the secret of this beautiful girl close to their hearts. Years ago, entreated by a lonely, abruptly destitute man, for which Mother Evenlin herself had once had stirrings of emotions for before she chosen the Coventry, she took the motherless child into her care and had raised her from infancy. That was nineteen years ago. Today, Mother Evenlin knew, marks the day of the prophecy.

Starring hard into the scene before her, she looked, searched really, for something she knew was just out of grasp. She saw the white-covered landscape, watched as the wind swayed the branches, the way the snow moved together in formation over the earth, like a blanket embracing a child and yet she knew in her heart there was something more that her eyes were meant to grace. She felt drawn to the window and stood waiting for she knew a message was to be sent to her.

"Ma mere". The whispered reverence gave her a sudden chill and shocked her out of her stance. Looking to who produced the sound, Mother Evenlin turned and saw her god-sent sister of 15 years, standing to her side.

"What is it that troubles you?"

"My child, it is nothing." Staring into the brown eyes of Sister Claire-Lie, she saw the worry and smiled. "You worry for naught. "Now", taking an air of friendly nonchalance "there is much to be done Sister, where are the others?" spoke Mother Evenlin.

Knowing that Mother Evenlin considered the discussion closed, Sister Clair-lie mentally shook herself and proceeded to inform the mistress of the preparations. "The sisters have prepared much for this Eve of Christ's birth, the supper is made and waiting and the church has been adorned with trinkets of both religious and beauteous harmony. This auspicious day will be a glory to all."

"My dear sister Clair-lie, I am old and tired and yet as the day of Christ's birth approaches I can feel the spirit lighten me. Take to the prayer room, inform the sisters we will begin shortly."

"But, wont you walk with me?"

Again, that smile. "No child, I need to prepare myself as well." With that, Mother Evenlin turned towards the window, marking the end of the conversation.

As sister Clair-lie walked away towards the pew, her mind was transfixed with worry over Mother Evenlin, "it is not like her to be so eerily-polite with her words, she is strict but always shares her thoughts", thought Sister Claire-lie. Shaking her head, Sister Clair-lie decided that Mother Evenlin knew what she was doing and felt certain that it was due to her tiredness and proceeded to the prayer room to join the congregating sisters.

The air once again grew still and solemn.

"Ah," whispered Evenlin as she gazed out the window, "it is you, the one we have been waiting for." The significance of the last image that floated into her eyes was left a mystery for all. The breath shook out of Mother Evenlin like a caress as she quietly slipped down the wall and fell silently to her death.

At the same time, the doors of the church rattled once and the burst letting and onslaught of snow and wind into the halls, along with the naked, blood ridden body of Earl Remand Guildbance.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: First off, thank you for the reviews, please spread the word as this is my first writing of any kind, I am anxious to hear feedback - pos. & neg., everything is appreciated. And to warn you all, this may take a while (due to time constraints) but I will try to update weekly when possible. O, as I was completely disappointed with my short 1st chapter, I intend to make sure my chapters are much much longer. Thanks! Read, review and enjoy!

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It was night, past the hour of her curfew in the convent, making her hustle and stumble through the dense overbearing forest. She had only stepped out to gather the herbs needed for Sister Claire-Lie's remedies. Somehow, it felt to her, the night had come on like an attack. Shaking her head, she proceeded to retrace her way to the convent. Echoing in the air was the sounds of owls; the soft 'hoot', in tune with her every step as if to chastise her for disobeying curfew. Hindered by the feet of snow on the ground, her foot stubbed on a rock causing her to pause and cringe in pain. Glancing down to access the pain, she was abruptly brought out of her musings, for out the corner of her eye; she saw a shadow dash through the path. She stilled; immediate fear crept over her. At the next instant, relief flowed into her as she recognized a fellow Sister.

She called out, "Sister, I'm over here. I've hurt my foot but it's nothing serious. Stay there, I'll come to you." The words were spoken with confidence.

The shadow stalled on the path. It turned and faced her, cloaked in the garments of a Sister but from where she stood the face was indiscernible. Without removing her eyes from her Sister, she moved down the pathway. When she was only a few feet away from her companion, her Sister turned and walked ahead of her. Confused, but thinking that the Sister was upset at her breaking curfew, she followed silently, shame causing her to look at her feet during the trip back to the convent.

After a few steps, the urge to repent was too great, a lesson too ingrained in her for her to ignore it. "Sister, I ----," she halted mid-sentence. Not a soul stood before her. She glanced at the snow; there was no indication of anything walking before her.

Suddenly, the pathway swirled with fog. Glancing left and right, this fog seemed to be moving towards her. The pounding of her heart so violently in her breast made her unable to breathe. Dropping her basket, she ran, as fast as she could, through the forest. The fog, however, proved swift and sure; entrapping her. Numbly, she stopped. There was no other choice. Her vision was now thoroughly blocked by the mist and she knew if she tried to move on she would only get herself lost. Her breath slowed, the pauses visible in the frosty air. Time stood still.

As quickly as it had disappeared before, the figure appeared – growing out of the mist. It was dressed in a nun's habit, the face shrouded by darkness.

"Annarave," it whispered.

As she stood terrified, the figure slowly reached up and began to remove the coif, revealing the mysterious identity. The woman that stood before her nudged Annarave's mind – the gray eyes so familiar, it was a memory not quite in reach. The woman couldn't have been any older that Annarave was herself, but at the convent, Annarave was the youngest inhabitant.

"Who--," Annarave began.

"I am a friend, Annarave," interrupted the figure, "Your heart knows me, perhaps in a different form. You have been blessed. Do you know where you came from? Who you are? What you represent?" spoke the figure.

It was as if this figure knew her all her insecurities. She was an orphan. No one in the Coventry knew where she came from. She had questioned and obtained nothing.

The figure, bemused, shook its head. "Those secrets are for you to unravel. A swift answer is impossible. It is a journey you must endure. At birth, you were given three amulets: each holding the key to your future. All amulets, the ring with the double R (RR) crest, the amber stone, and the golden key, are your means of discovering who you are and what you will become. You have enemies, the standards by which are more daunting than you could imagine. You will have to choose, or it will be chosen for you. Loyalties divided. Passions divided. Your choice is greater that you – it affects many people. Remember to follow who you are. Never stray from who you are – what you hold dear. And fight. Annarave Paquina de Brillarc. Fight."

The figure, reaching out, took Annarave's hand and pressed it to it's own.

"My time is over, sweet child. I am needed elsewhere. Take heed to my words."

Staring hard into the gray eyes, Annarave, triggered by recollection, whispered, "Mother Evelin?"

The figure smiled and with the blink of an eye, disappeared. Annarave stood dumbfounded. Her hands were gripping dead air. The forest was serene, the mist having completely vanished. Lost in the trance created by the figure, Annarave forced herself to come to reality. She stood looking around her, searching for the figure but she knew it was a search in vain.

"Annarave"

"Annarave"

Startled, Annarave looked toward the voices calling her.

"There you are. Child we have been searching for you for hours," proclaimed Sister Mornay. Her plump face was streaked with tears.

Worried, Annarave asked, "Sister Mornay, what is it? Why are you crying?"

Ignoring her question, Sister Mornay turned and called out to the other members of the search party, "I have found her, Sisters. We are needed at the chapel. Please make haste."

Grabbing Annarave's hand, she walked, speedily to the kitchen entrance of the chapel.

"Sister Mornay?" No response.

"Sister Mornay!"

Sister Mornay glanced at her and kept her silence. Ever more worried, Annarave looked to the other Sisters. Like Mornay, their faces were wet with tears, some still openly flowing. Her heart stopped. What can cause such mass grief? Wondered Annarave. With only steps from the kitchen's doors, Annarave looked to see Sister Claire-Lie standing at the threshold.

"I'm so sorry, Sister Claire-Lie, please forgive me. I meant no harm. I simply lost track of the time. I --."

Sister Claire-Lie held up her hand, "Annarave, it is for naught. You are safe. It was a mistake. Please come inside, we need to discuss something."

Frowning at the lack of rebuke, Annarave followed Sister Claire-Lie into the warmth of the kitchen. As the Sisters filed in after them, Sister Claire-Lie motioned with her hand for the Sisters to leave them in private.

As the door to the adjoining room was closed, Sister Claire-Lie began, "There is really no easy way to say this. A little while ago, Mother Evelin was found at the chapel's front window. She passed away Annarave. She appeared at peace."

As the words registered in her mind, Annarave screamed, "No. No. No. Let me see her. Take me to her."

Moving towards Annarave, Sister Claire-Lie said, "Rogue, I'm so sorry, my child, so sorry."

Recognizing Sister Claire-Lie called her by her nickname, Rogue, the nickname bestowed to her by Mother Evelin, Rogue collapsed into Sister Claire-Lie's arms. Sobs racked her body. The events of the day have been more than she had ever had to bear.

Pulling away, she asked, "How? Where is she? I need to make my peace with her." Nodding her assent, Sister Claire-Lie, whose own eyes were red-rimmed with tears, said, "She's being prepared for her final rest. We will have an immediate burial in lieu of the celebration that was previously planned. For now, prepare yourself. Take to your room, I will have broth sent up."

Knowing it was for the best, Annarave hugged Sister Claire-Lie and turned to go to her room.

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Rogue watched the snowfall reach the ground in heavy waves. Her room was located on the third tower of the chapel, enabling her to gaze through her window to the surrounding countryside. Perched on the window seat, her mind flew with images and thoughts of Mother Evelin.

Mother Evelin grounded her first memories. She did not have a mother or a father, per say, but was far from lacking a family. Growing up in the Convent she had many mothers. They each instilled in her life lessons that she knew would take her far. Mother Evelin, however, meant more to her for she was the one who was always at her side. Mother Evelin was the one she feared, adored, loved and really felt as if she were under the best protection anyone could ask for. To please Mother Evelin, she had tried, sometimes in vein, to curb her wild impulses. She could remember, being at the tender age of 8, unable to hold back her curiosity and ran into the forest, unattended, breaking the chapel's rule, to discover what was so forbidding about the forest. While she was off getting her answers, the Sisters in the convent had been beside themselves with worry and when she had finally returned, none other than Mother Evelin herself harshly reprimanded her. But even that reprimand was because of love, thought Annarave.

Now, she's gone, thought Annarave.

Gone but, if that figure in the forest was really her, then what did it all mean? That visit in the forest had to have been her: those eyes were her trademarks. That message, mused Annarave, amulets, loyalties, passions? I was never given any trinkets of any kind. I was left here at this chapel, meaning Mother Evelin had kept those possessions away from me. What were her reasons? Has my history died with her?

Tired because of the pool of unanswered questions littering her mind, she leaned her forehead against the cool pane of the window and closed her eyes.

It's hard to say how long she remained in that pose, devoid of emotion, scared, really to recognize the ramifications of what the past day meant. Mentally shaking herself, and continuing to listen to the wind outside and the faint sounds of nuns below, she rose and walked to the hearth.

At this point she was freezing; a cold that infected her spirit more than her body.

Hearing the click of her door signaling the entrance of someone, she turned to greet the visitor with a smile.

That smile soon died as her green eyes widened, beholding the sight of a half-naked bandaged man, his long hair covering his features making him look more beast-like than human.


	3. Chapter 3

Hiya people... i was sitting in work (bored out my mind) and i got the urge to write... unfortunately i was time-stressed so i wasnt able to write much.. but i plan to continue this story.. its brewing in my mind and i just want it out! So excuse the shortness.. but i hope you like.

I just want to take a minute and thank everyone who reviewed already:

**Sara:** thanks - mother Evelin is more than just the simple nun... her role is far deeper than you would imagine.. bet you were thinking remy would be in the chapter.. dont worry - he'll be here soon enough

**Anime Bishounen Lover:** I must admit.. i love the cliffhangers.. unfortunately (dont kill me) i will have a few in store for this story... but i promise its worth it

**enchantedlight:** thanks so much -) you read da best of the best fanfic on this site (i see how many times you review) so thanks for doing the same for me... umm.. hope this was soon enough for you.. -x

**ishandahalf:** love ya name by the way!... it means mucho much to me that u like this story - your stories are fantastic... hope you enjoy where this is going...

**Mystical Sand:** loved the RR crest thing, huh? me too! (obviously...lol.. im so lame)

**WildCardRose:** o..its soo a/u.. hope you enjoy

**xpoisonedxangelx**: dark n mysterious name.. i just mite cast you in my story !

**capri:** hope you like!

**Phoenix-torn:** lol... i was hoping someone would catch the similarities of the names...

**Sagistar:** enjoy this chapter... its like a bit of spice for the story

**Ayia:** thanks! hope i dont disappoint

addtothenoise: now, i suck at updates.. took me a blimey whole year.. but i hope you keep reading..

**Jen:** thanks!

If I forgot you... i so sorry ! Thanks soooo much for any/all reviews... hey, the way I see it - if I suck.. you'll all help me be better..

Now read on... Enjoy and puh leaseeeee review..

helppuppie

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She walked down the silent hall, caught in thoughts of grief and tragedy. Her steps were slow, careful, marking her true state of exhaustion. Nearing her destination, she paused.

"What is she going to do? How can she possibly attempt to keep this secret? The poor child has had enough to bear."

The tense whispers flowed out the open door.

"Laila, hush. You speak out of turn. She will figure it out. Lord knows she has to. There is no other choice for any of us right now."

Deciding she had heard enough, Sister Claire-lie walked into the chamber. "I will take care of the rest my Sisters," her neutral none flagrant with authority. Her eyes glittered as she looked upon the startled nuns.

Glancing guiltily at each other, the nuns curtsied and fled the room.

As soon as the door was closed, a rush a breath escaped her. Her body was tense, as if sprung on a wire. Sister Claire-lie felt the tiredness seep into her bones and, using the privacy of the chamber, allowed her body to relax. It was well past midnight, the moon high in the sky. The preparations for Mother Evelin's burial were finally complete for she was to be buried at first light.

Thoughts whirled in her head. Do I have the ability to continue? They are right to question each other, she mused, thinking of the conversation she just overheard. How am I to overcome such obstacles? How can I protect the child without Mother Evelin?

She shook her head as if to clear all thoughts from her head. She had to remain strong; the nuns were looking to her for guidance, for support. Proceeding into the chamber, she glanced up at the wall. Silently beseeching the portrait of Mother Evelin for blessings, she strode to the desk. The room was Mother Evelin's sanctuary; the place where she conducted all convent business and met with church officials. Sitting in Mother Evelin's chair shook Sister Claire-lie to her core. It was like stepping into a ghostly shadow. The chills raised goose bumps along her arms and she made the sign of the cross to warn off evil presences. The desk was strewn with paperwork. But she knew what she was looking for. Mother Evelin had prepared her for this moment 15 years ago. She could clearly remember the day she learned of the true workings of Holy Seat.

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**_PAST_**

She had received a summons to appear in the high mistress' chambers at the close of lunch. Appearing in front of Mother Evelin's door, she knocked softly.

"Enter"

She walked in, immediately noticing her fellow sister, her head bent in concentration to write. Without lifting her head, Mother Evelin asked "please take a seat sister; give me one more moment to complete this."

Silently obeying, Claire-lie seated herself directly opposite Mother Evelin.

Waiting patiently for her sister to finish, she began to inspect the room. On both sides of the desk were two large windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. The tapestries that hung over them were identical; both depicting the landscape surrounding the church. The tapestries were woven with clear-cut precision. Looking at the work, Claire-lie noticed its' perfection. The trees and branches seemed to glitter as if the morning dew had just dropped. Feeling her fingers begin to twitch, Claire-lie smiled to herself. She had a passion for sewing. Her own embroideries were famous in the surrounding village and she was constantly making new designs and crafting new patterns that brought awe to the church. If only she could have a word with the artist that made those tapestries, she thought. She would compare notes. As her eyes roamed further, she noticed the bareness of the room. The tapestries appeared to be the only luxury for everything else was of bare necessity. The desk and chairs were fashioned out of dark wood and devoid of fancy carvings. On the left was the fireplace, set into the stone wall with little design. It was there for efficiency. Knowing how cold the winters got, Claire-lie knew that the fireplace offered the room all the needed warmth. The stone floors were mostly left uncovered, except for the right-hand section of the room. In that area, lay one large brown rug. Located by the rug was a door that Claire-lie surmised was Mother Evelin's private suite.

On the wall, to the right of the door, was a large portrait. It was of a woman sitting, her hand folded on her lap, her face averted to the left and absent of any smiles. The woman looked to be in deep thought, slight frown wrinkles were apparent by the tilt of her brow. Her long black hair reached almost to the ground, flowing in long waves down her back. Her dress was deep gray, almost black; its high neck accentuating the point of her chin and the sweep of her lashes. She's beautiful, thought Claire-lie.

"I was young then. I had just received notice that I was head mistress. It's customary for each head mistress to get her portrait done but it was tiresome for me. I am impatient with such nonsense."

The voice of Mother Evelin seemed to echo loudly throughout the room.

Abruptly glancing back to Mother Evelin, "that was you," blurted Claire-lie.

Her face flushed as Mother Evelin smiled. "I meant no offense," she hastily added.

"it's quite alright, child. I get that reaction often. Those were days of the past." She paused. "the past" she repeated. The smile faded from her eyes. "sister Claire-lie, I am going to trust you as I relay this information to you. You are my second in command and because of this you bear a burden that require full faith and responsibility."

The seriousness of her tone alarmed Claire-lie and her attention became entrapped in her sister's gaze.

"We have the honor of raising a beautiful child. Annarave is unlike any other we will ever meet. She came to us in tragedy and was entrusted to us by a great and powerful man"

"Annarave? She is but 4 years old. You have told us that she is an orphan. Her parents are unknown. She----"

Raising her hand to signal silence, Mother Evelin paused. Reaching into her left sleeve of her habit, she slid her fingers into a pocket, and retrieved a small key. At first, Claire-lie was caught trying to find out where exactly the pocket was located for the seams were so intricate that it appeared as if Mother Evelin had produced the key from magic. Before Claire-lie could recover from that surprise, Mother Evelin spoke.

"I know you are rife with questions, and I will try to answer all that I can."

As she was speaking, she got up and made her way to the portrait. Stopping in front of the portrait, she stared at the stone wall and using her fingers, found a slight grove. Using both hands, she slowly pulled the stone, the size of which was about 6 inches wide, out of the wall. Placing it on the mantle, she reached inside the wall and extracted a small box. Bringing her treasure back to her desk, she sat in the chair next to Claire-lie and set the box before them both.

"We hold this child Annarave close to our hearts, Claire-lie. She is special to the future. She is but 4 years old but she is the key to peace. Her fortune and her prophesy are set. In this box, there are three keys to her existence. She is not an orphan with no family connection, but a child born in one of the most powerful families of our times. Her father was a man many sought to extinguish. As he fought for his family and his right to rule, many sought to kill those he held dear. In the end, he was unable to save his wife and himself. In desperation, he came to me and gave me his baby girl. With her, he left to me the truth. His youngest brother was the traitor. In order to hold more lands and more titles, he erected an uneasy and secretive treaty with the ruling Don in Italy. The Don promised to help his brother expand the borders of their lands and to help conquer neighboring lands in his name. The price was Annarave's family. The Don was a powerful enemy and needed the family dead.

"The brother had his own goals and needed to kill his elder brother is achieve them. The sin of blood lies on his hands. He stabbed his brother's wife repeatedly after brutally using her body. His brother was away from the lands and on entrance to his home, he heard his wife screaming. Running to her chamber, he saw the gruesome scene and lunged for his brother. Though his younger brother was weaker, he had his personal guards waiting to help. In the attack, Annarave's father was stabbed numerous times.

"Left for dead, he crawled to his wife and watched as the light faded from her eyes. Moving painfully slow, he begged his body to help him reach his child. He knew they would be after her. The youngest brother was in a rage searching for the child. It was God's blessing that that day, her mother had thought to leave her with her nurse maid in the village. Her father, knowing this, snuck out and raced to his stables. Slowly bleeding to death, he rode his horse into the village, got his child and raced with her to Holy Seat."

Claire-lie's eyes had glistened over. The tears falling quietly down her face.

Mother Evelin took a steadying breath and continued, "He had come screaming my name. The sisters were scared and ran to find me. I ran out as he stumbled off his mount.

"Evely" he rasped "help me, please. I am dying. Take her from me," as he thrust her small form into my hands, "wash my blood off my child, keep her safe, protect her identity from the world. She will rise when God is ready for her."

He fell to the floor and as I knelt next to him, I stroked his face, watching him as his eyes slowly glazed over and he left this world.

I was in shock. It took me a moment to realize that I was clutching the baby to my chest. I immediately went to work, directing the sisters to bring his body inside and I took the child to my room. When I unwrapped her from her blanket, a letter with 3 items fell out."

Turning to the desk, Mother Evelin inserted the key into the tiny box and twisted. The top sprung loose and inside lay a small square white fur pelt. Reaching inside the box, she took out the pelt and laid it on the desk. Nestled in the pelt were three objects, a small delicate ring with an engraving on it, an amber stone the size of button, and a small gold object.

"These are the legacies that tie Annarave to her family. They are her past, present and future."

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_**PRESENT**_

Shaking herself out from her reverie, she retrieved the small key from the left sleeve of her habit and walked to the portrait. Mimicking the actions of Mother Evelin, those of which she had witnessed 15 years past, she sat back at the desk and took out the three precious objects.

"It is time that she learns who she is. Annarave, my sweet child, forgive me." She whispered into the air.

Walking out of the room with the objects safely nestled in her pockets, she walked down the hall into the hospice.

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next chapter... Earl Remand Guildbance... 


	4. Chapter 4

Earl Remand Guildbance, otherwise known as Remy, woke groggily to find himself and his wounds being tended to by a number of n

Earl Remand Guildbance, otherwise known as Remy, woke groggily to find himself and his wounds being tended to by a number of nuns. His eyes, slowly adjusting to the light, began to shift as he tried to view the room and its occupants. "Woo--," he tried to raise himself to speak, but fell back into the bed with a groan. It was clear from their attire that he had ended up in a nunnery. Blinking slowly, he tried again. "Qui vous est…?"

"Give him water," spoke a nun coldly. As another held his head up, he proceeded to gulp water, as much as he could, into his system. "Lentement… slowly," cautioned the nun. Forcing himself to obey the command, he consumed enough water to alleviate his parched throat.

Swallowing, he looked up into the unexpressive face of the nun, attempting to catch her eyes.

"Leave him with me," ordered the same nun on the left. The order came swift and the obedience that followed suggested that there was one nun that held power. Silently, the other nuns gathered their tools, while the remaining nun approached his bedside.

Masking his face so as not to betray any of his thoughts, Remy looked up.

As the door closed, she began as if she was reciting as well-thought speech, all of which was void of emotion.

"We are the nun's of Holy's Seat, the chapel in which you have found yourself. I am Sister Claire-Lie… now the head of the chapel." She paused as if to collect her bearing. Afraid to betray any weakness, she glanced sharply at him, studying him with obvious disdain. She knew this man: cursed with eyes of red fire, he was unmistakable. He was a legend among her people, feared more often that not, this Earl. Her eyes traveled over his features. His dark black hair, with its burnished red tips, lay against his shoulder, long and unkempt, now thoroughly cleaned of the blood that previously soaked it. When she had first seen him, his hair was matted with blood, a condition similar to the rest his body. After the careful administrations of the nuns, he had appeared clean and whilst asleep, even, angelic. Now, with eyes of fire, she was sure he was the devil incarnate. Her slow perusal moved from his hair to his body, back to his face. A storm of emotions swept through her, leaving her wishing that the Mother was here to help. She could not be cold to this man, she realized. As much as she feared what he brought, she knew it was necessary.

She was aware of his past and knew that he was the one whispered of; the one the old soothsayer women passed stories of. He emanated a presence of pure danger, one she knew not to cross. His eyes flickered over her features. He's trying to read me, she thought, somewhat amused. Here he is lying bruised and he's studying me to gage my intent, as if preparing for battle. Interesting.

She began again. "Your entrance was ominous, to say the least." Her tone of voice dripping of condescension. "Our Mother was found lying dead near your body. Understand that your identity need not be given, as we are God's servants and do his bidding for any man that may need our help. As we are in the process of mourning, we ask that as soon as you are healed, that you take leave of our residence. The times of war, as I presume you are involved in, has, up to this point, always been left at the door of our chapel. As I have taken over, I intend to keep my Sisters living in the peace that we have always found ourselves." A pause ensued.

Looking up into the brown eyes of this Sister, Remy found her uncompromising, hard, bereft of sympathy, yet trying to stem the flow of her our fear. Her "mourning" was valid, but the harshness of her dialogue raised questions nonetheless; Remy knew there was another reason that she sought his exit. In her gaze he recognized a keen intelligence; a woman who obviously knew more than that which she spoke. While Remy observed her with his half lowered lids, Sister Claire-Lie did the same, only more blatantly.

Earlier, when she had discovered Mother Evelin, she had found the doors of the chapel open, and with it the body of the man now bandaged in the nursery ward. She did not hate this man; no peculiarity affected her because of him. However, as she was Mother Evelin's second in command, she knew that the chain of events had started. The prophecy, which they had held back all these years were breathing down their very necks. This man, she knew, was the bringer of the prophecy. The identifying mark was the brand burned into his skin, the letters RR surrounded by ancient symbols was found on his inside left wrist. The Sister taking care of his bath had informed her of the strange markings and not daring to believe it, she had rushed into the nursery ward, only to see that it was not a mistake. Still having questions, she had raced back into Mother Evelin's private suite and uncovered items well buried in her chest, namely a ring marking the same letters surrounded by the same ancient symbols. "God give me strength," cried Sister Claire-Lie mentally. By the look of this man, he was not to be toyed with nor was he likely to obey orders.

"I trust you understand that," finished Sister Claire-Lie. Knowing that she must maintain a strong resolve, she turned her back to leave.

"Wait, s'il vous plait, wait," requested Remy. At that, she turned back to face him with questioning eyes. Struggling to speak, Remy croaked out, "I am Earl Remand Guildbance, the overlord of Lore de Belle… my right-hand warrior survived… I need to get word to him… they will search for me… it is not safe."

Seeing the effort it took him, Sister Claire-Lie rushed back to his side. "You are in no shape to go anywhere. You must rest. The war did not touch us but the time is still dangerous. We can not send anyone out to contact your people. It is too risky. Perhaps later, when you are healed yourself…" her words trailed off for she noticed that his eyes had closed. Shaking her head, she moved to leave. A hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, "no… I must leave… there is too much at stake… get me a horse…" eyes feverishly blazing, he beseeched her.

Placing her fingers upon his wrist, she gently removed herself. "I cannot send one of my women out in these times for you. I am sorry."

Resigned to her statement, Remy closed his eyes. Hearing the swift shuffle of her skirts, and the resounding slam of the door as it was closed, he swore beneath his breath and, again, fell into the blackness awaiting him.

….

"Go in. Rush, get the cloak… it is what they are seeking." A huddled figure, draped in black whispered to her companion. Shaking, the other whispered back, "do you believe in this sorcery? He is meant to do us harm. Look at the way Sister Claire-Lie treats him… we must do what we can to rid us of his presence."

"I cannot do harm to another in God's halls." The other screeched.

"We must protect ourselves… he brings these warriors into our very hall… they wait for him now." The cloaked figure demanded. "Where do your loyalties lie?"

"Ugh…." The groaned startled the two figures from their conversation. Looking guiltily at one another, they froze. After a few moments, the cloaked figure moved closer to the bed. "He rests… though uneasily… we must hurry."

The two companions looked at each other, as if to gather the courage for the task awaiting them. One figure, moved back to the room's entrance and slowly opened the door to reveal another man, a warrior himself. Bowing slightly, he made his acknowledgements to the sisters and walked, slowly, but steadily to the bed.

He was light, to the bed's dark. His ash blond hair ran angelically down his back, longer in the style of warrior than those born out of royalty. His eyes, equally light, were like mercury, slowly shifting as he cast his gaze upon the objects within the room. His face, carefully void of all emotion, was beautiful. High aristocratic cheekbones, Parisian nose, and rounded lips belied his true character. His body, however, was the essence of a warrior, built tall, strong, spoke of his encounters on the field. There was a patience to his gaze. As if he was speaking without movement of his generous lips. Summoning all the courage she had, the cloaked sister, approached this light and beseeched him for his help. "If it suits you, milord, please take your companion to a place where he may be able to heal in peace. By now it will be wildly known that the Lord of Lore de Belle is injured and there will be others seeking his demise, and they will bring harm to our sisters here."

Like a pool gently stirred, the angel raised his gaze to the sister. His voice came slow, as if slurred with a hint of the best meade but it was premeditated. "I will release you of your obligation here and ask that you take your silence of the events past with you to your holdings." It was all the words he spoke, but the sisters knew to broke no further argument or supposition with him. His iron gaze returned to their bed companion, and it signaled the dismissal of the two sisters. They took their leave without another word.

Like a soft sea breeze, the gray angel slowly leaned down, his lips a breath away from the bed's mate, and whispered, "Finally."


End file.
